An Eye for an Eye
by EmmaEllieJane
Summary: The Women's Murder Club must work quickly to solve their latest case, or risk losing one of their own.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One.

"To another case solved!" Inspector Lindsay Boxer raised her glass in the air as a toast, laughing as her best girlfriends clashed their margaritas against hers, then drank it down heartily. It wasn't the first drink that night, and it wouldn't be the last either.  
"It's alright for you guys, " Jill Bernhardt, Assistant District Attorney said, smiling. "Your work here is done. Me, I've got to convince the jury that Alfred Blake is guilty as charged."  
"You'll kick ass in court, Jill. No doubt about it." Cindy Thomas, the young, red-headed reporter for the San Francisco Register put in, topping up their glasses. Claire Washburn, the Chief Medical Examiner, placed her hand over her glass, shaking her head.  
"No thanks, baby girl. Any more and I won't be able to drive home." The mother of two smiled, picking up a bread roll.  
"So Lindsay," Cindy turned to the homicide detective sitting next to her, a sparkle in her eyes. "Do I have the green light to go ahead with the whole story?" Cindy knew she did, since they had caught the guy, but she wanted to be sure. She didn't want Lindsay to arrest her. Again.  
Lindsay nodded. "Lights are green."  
"In that case," Cindy said excitedly, pulling a notebook and pen from her bag. "I do have some questions."  
Jill grinned. "When do you not?"  
They all laughed and had another round, except Claire, as Cindy squeezed all the information out of them as she could.

Robert sat alone at a table in the corner, watching the four women from under a baseball cap, eyes emotionless. He nursed a still full, slightly warm beer in his hands. He felt incredibly calm. He watched as the bubbly black woman, Claire Washburn, kissed her friends on the cheek as she stood up, grabbing her coat. She waved goodbye and left. He watched as the red-head scribbled furiously in her notebook, occasionally glancing up at Jill Bernhardt and Lindsay Boxer until they too left. He stood up, leaving some money on the table for the beer he didn't drink, and followed them out the door. Around them the streets were busy, the sound of cars and people talking filling the cool night air. The red-head, the detective and the ADA talked for a bit more, before hugging and parting ways. He watched them go, anger suddenly overwheliming him. Anger that she got to live, that they all got to live.  
It wasn't fair.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two.

Jill dropped her handbag on the small hall table and shut the front door behind her. She ran a manicured hand through her short, blonde hair as she walked into the kitchen, her heels clacking against the tiles. After inspecting the fridge and finding nothing of interest, she turned around and headed up the stairs. Thoughts of the upcoming trial, The People vs. Alfred Blake, filled her head. She entered her study, grabbed some files, and started sifting through them.  
She was too immersed in her work to hear the door slowly open, then click shut.

Several hours later Jill rubbed her tired, red eyes and stretched. The rest of her work would have to wait until the next day, when she could keep her eyes open.  
She walked slowly into her bedroom, anticipating a nice, hot shower. She undressed quickly and slipped into her bathrob. The blonde noticed that her closet door was opened slightly, and frowned as she shut it.  
'The stress must be getting to me,' The attorney thought to herself as she walked into the bathroom.  
The bathroom was neat and tidy, as was the rest of the young woman's house. Pink, fluffy towels were already set out on the cabinet as Jill turned the shower on. She pulled her bathrobe off then stepped under the hot spray. Closing her eyes, the ADA lett her mind go blank, just enjoying the water pounding pleasantly against her back.

Robert watched the thin blonde, enoying the sight of her as she undressed. It was over a bit too quick for him to enjoy it properly, but he knew he would be using that image later that night. His heart was beating fast at the thrill of being in her house unknown. She had come so close that he could smell her sweet perfume. He had thought that she would find him and he would have to kill her, but it seemed he was in luck tonight.  
Hearing the shower turn on, the stocky man opened the closet door slowly and pushed it outward, cringing at the creaking sound it made. His boots and plaid shirt looked awkward in the delicately feminine room. He liked it. He liked the feeling it gave him, like he was somewhere he didn't belong.  
It never occured to him that he didn't.  
Smooth hands picked up the silver photoframe sitting on the blonde's bedside table. Robert could faintly see the outlines of four figures in the picture, illuminated softly by the glow from a streetlight outside the ADA's house. Nimble fingers opened the back and removed the photo. He glanced around before taking a chance and flicking on the bedside lamp. He could see the people in the photo properly now. Three woman he knew so well, their faces ingrained forever into his memory. And the red-head again.  
A wide grin spread across his unshaven face. He had a plan.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three.

Cindy quickly reread over her partly finished story about the Hopskotch killer, the nickname the press had given Alfred Blake because of his murders. Alfred Blake's victims had all been young, female teachers. All had been found face down on a chalk drawing of a hopskotch in school playgrounds. The first victim, 26 year old Alicia Rhode, had been found by a group of ten year olds. Cindy felt sick at the thought.  
She absentmindedly tucked a loose strand of red hair behind her ear as she flicked back over the notes she had taken the night before at Papa Joe's. She couldn't concentrate. Usually the sounds of her co-workers typing, laughing and talking as they hurried to make the deadline calmed her somewhat, helped her focus. But not today.  
She twisted her necklace around her fingers, then squeezed her eyes shut in fustration.  
Coffee. She needed coffee.  
She grabbed her bag and headed out of the building of the Register into the busy street. She immediately headed for her favourite little cafe' on the corner of the block, weaving her way through the masses of people. Her thoughts drifted back to her article. She had no idea how she was going to finish it. The story was there, she just couldn't get it onto paper or, rather, screen. She knew what was wrong. Cindy Thomas, top crime reporter for the San Franscico Register, had writer's block.  
She was definitely going to need an extra shot of expresso.  
Cindy reached the little coffeehouse, a clutter of chairs and tables out the front, and the smell of blueberry muffins and cappucinos wafted out to meet her. In her haste to caffeinate herself she bumped into a tall man stepping out of the cafe', a container of coffee in hand.  
"Shit! Sorry," Cindy apologised, eyes wide, as the coffee that had previously existed in a cardboard cup was now covering both the stranger and her. People turned to stare and Cindy felt her face go red.  
"I'm so sorry! Here, let me help. " Cindy pulled them over to a little glass table, grabbed a handful of paper napkins and started wiping his shirt with them, failing miserably. His previously blue shirt now had an ugly brown stain across the front.  
She didn't even want to glance down at her sixty five dollar blouse.  
The reporter suddenly realised that the stranger hadn't said a word, and looked up at him, hands still pressed against his chest. She felt her heart do a little somersault as she took in his features. Chiselled jaw. Large, warm brown eyes. Ruffled brown hair. Wide, smiling mouth... He was laughing at her, she realised.  
Cindy frowned. "I don't see what is so funny about this." She was suddenly all too aware of his tight abs beneath her hands, and quickly let her arms fall to her sides.  
"I'm sorry, it's just... you're beautiful. I'm Charlie." His eyes danced as he checked her out. Cindy blushed.  
"Cindy." She accepted his outstretched hand. "You know, this is not the reaction I normally get when I spill scalding hot coffee on someone."  
"You make a habit of doing this often?" He smirked and Cindy couldn't help but smile back into his warm eyes, feeling completely lost.  
"Only with guys I like." Cindy shook her head. Had she really just said that?  
"In that case, I guess you wouldn't object if I asked you on a date tomorrow night?"  
Cindy shrugged, trying to appear nonchalent. "I guess I wouldn't."  
Charlie smiled. "Great. So, I'll pick you up at say, seven?"  
"Sure. See you at seven." Cindy smiled. She couldn't wait to tell the girls. She turned around and started walking back to the Register, coffee completely forgotten. All she could think about was the Charlie's chocolate eyes...  
She nearly jumped a mile as she felt a hand clamp down on her shoulder. She spun around to face Charlie. Her forehead creased in confusion.  
An apologetic smile filled his face. "Um, so where do I pick you up from?"

"No!" Jill squealed, clasping a hand over her mouth as she stared at her friend sitting across from her at their favourite booth at Papa Joe's.  
Cindy's head sunk into her hands and a moan escaped from her lips.  
"I did. I forgot to tell him where I lived. I went for the cool exit and ended up looking like a dumbass."  
Claire laughed and putt a comforting arm around her young friend's shoulders. "Honey, I'm sure it's not going to matter. He probably feels just as stupid as you do."  
They heard Cindy mumble, but couldn't understand what she had said through all the red hair that was splayed across the table. Lindsay took it to mean she needed more beer and called the waitress over. She asked her to bring another round for everyone.  
"I know this is going to sound really weird." Jill said as Cindy resurfaced and they had all stopped laughing. "But did anyone borrow a picture from my night stand?"  
"What are you talking about, sugar?" Claire asked after sharing a confused look with Cindy and Lindsay.  
Jill shrugged. "It's probably just me going around the bend, but I had a picture of us on my night table. The frame is still there but the picture is missing."  
Lindsay immediately grew concerned, the cop in her taking over. "When did you see it last?"  
Jill took a sip of her drink and waved her hand. "It's not that big of a deal, Lindsay. I don't think someone broke into my house just to steal a polaroid. I'm sure I took it out and left it somewhere."  
Lindsay frowned. That didn't sound like Jill. Her shoes were colour-coded for crying out loud. It wasn't like her to misplace something. Jill didn't say anything more about the missing photo, and they went back to talking about Cindy's hot date. But something niggled in the back of Lindsay's mind.  
She had a bad feeling about this.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four.

Cindy couldn't keep the smile off her face, her thoughts flashing back to the day before. Literally bumping into Charlie at the coffee shop, the giddy feeling in her stomach when he had asked her out...  
She checked her watch, dissapointed to see that only 30 seconds had passed since the last time she had checked. There were still 20 minutes until he got here. She felt like a 13 year old going on her first date, except Charlie was no 13 year old boy. Cindy walked into the kitchen and poured herself a glass of wine to try and relax. She hadn't been on a date since... well a long time, anyway. She looked down at her outfit, the third one she had tried on.  
'Third times the charm'. She thought. She had chosen a pale blue dress, leather jacket and small black heels. She suddenly had cold feet about the shoes and contemplated rushing back into her room to change them when the doorbell rang. She checked her watch again. He was early, that was a good sign. Or at least it used to be a good sign last time she had dated. Or did it mean he was too eager? She couldn't remember.  
Cindy set down her wine glass, smoothed out her dress, and opened the door. Her heart skipped a beat as she saw Charlie standing in the doorway, his hands behind his back and a wide smile on his face. He looked hot, for lack of a better word. Cindy could smell aftershave. Expensive aftershave. He was wearing a jacket and tie over jeans and she was glad she had worn heels.  
"Come in." Cindy offered, holding the door open for him. "I just need to get my bag."  
Charlie stepped just inside the door, his hands still behind his back. Curiosity finally got the better of her and the reporter in her asked, "What are you hiding?"  
Charlie smiled and pulled out a single red rose. He held it out towards her. "It reminded me..." Charlie suddenly stopped talking midsentence as a dark red stain spread quickly across his white shirt. His mouth fell open and pain lit his eyes.  
"Charlie..." Cindy said, shocked. Her hands wouldn't move. She saw a small, stocky man step out from behind Charlie. Her gaze went to his bloody hands and she gasped.  
"Suprise." He snarled. Cindy tried to scream but the man pushed Charlie on top of her, sending Cindy hard to the ground. Charlie's blood quickly stained her dress. He wasn't moving and she couldn't hear him breathing. His weight pressed against her. Suddenly she felt somthing pushed against her mouth. A strong smell filled her nose, and everything went black. 

Lindsay reached her front door after a hard day at the office, mostly doing paperwork about the Alfred Blake case. She felt a bottle of wine and a cuddle from Martha would have her feeling better in no time. She unlocked the door and pushed it open, expecting Martha to come bundling towards her. Her brows creased in confusion as that didn't happen.  
'_Maybe she's asleep...'_ Lindsay thought to herself, although that didn't seem likely. Martha was always there to greet her when she got home. Her stomach lurched as a million different possibilities raced through her mind. Martha lost. Martha sick. Martha... she couldn't even think the last one.  
"Martha!" Lindsay called out, shutting the door behind her. Barking sounded from behind the closed bedroom door and she felt a rush of relief as she ran to open it. Martha raced out and jumped all over her, licking her face and arms excitedly.  
"Hey, Martha. Settle down, girl!" Lindsay laughed. She sat on the couch and Martha jumped up next to her and wagged her tail. "I'm sorry, I didn't realise I locked you in. You poor thing." Yet something seemed wrong about the whole situation. She didn't remember shutting her bedroom door that morning. She didn't remember a time when she had _ever_ shut her door in the morning.  
Something on the coffee table caught her eye. A photo, she realised as she picked it up. Lindsay gasped. She knew this photo, although she almost hadn't recognised it. It was a picture one of the waitresses had taken for them at Papa Joe's not long ago. She could see Claire with her sweet smile Jill with her mouth open in a laugh. Lindsay herself was grinning. But where there should have been Cindy's smiling face was a hole, cut out roughly with what looked like a scalpel. She turned the photo over, her heart stopped at what she saw.  
Five words scrawled with a black marker.  
'An eye for an eye.'


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five.

Lindsay was screaming inside as she drove through the city, breaking all kinds of laws as she called Cindy's cell phone for the third time. She slammed her fist down on the steering wheel in fustration as she got no answer. A car horn blared as she swerved, narrowly missing them as she turned the corner on two wheels.  
'Cindy, What are you doing?'  
She was probably just in the shower or something, and Lindsay was just panicking for no reason. But Lindsay knew that Cindy always answered her phone, no matter what she was doing. It was what made the red head a great reporter.  
Lindsay changed tactics and called Jill, who picked up on the first ring.  
"_Hey, sweetie_." Jill's sweet voice rang through the line.  
"Is Cindy with you?"  
"_Uh, no... I think she has that hot date tonight. Why_?" Jill's voice dropped to concern as she heard how frantic Lindsay was.  
Lindsay slammed on the brakes at a red light, drumming her fingers on the wheel impatiently. "She's not answering her phone..."  
Jill interupted. "_Unusual, I'll grant you that. But why are you so worried_?"  
Lindsay forced herself to take a deep breath. "I found a picture in my apartment," She glanced at the happy-snap sitting on her dashboard, now in a zip-lock bag. "A Photo of us at Papa Joe's..."  
"_That's the photo from my bedside_."  
"Yeah, except it has had a minor adjustment made to it since then." Lindsay floored the accelerator the moment the lights turned green.  
"Cindy's head was cut out. And someone wrote on the back 'an eye for an eye'."  
There was quiet on the other end of the line.  
"_Shit_." Came Jill's reply after a second of silence.  
Lindsay pulled up on the curb. "I'm at her place now. All her lights are on." Lindsay said as she stepped out of the car. Lights were a good sign. She hoped.  
"_Don't hang up till you find her. You've got me scared to death here_." Jill said softly with a small, strained laugh.  
"Gotcha." Lindsay took the stairs two at a time. She reached Cindy's front door and raised her hand to knock. Her heart nearly jumped out of her chest when the door swung slowly open at her touch.  
"Cindy?" Lindsay's voice echoed eerily through the young reporter's home. She had barely stepped inside when her foot caught on something, almost causing her to stumble over. She almost gagged as she realised what that 'something' was. A man. She reached down and checked for a pulse. There was none.  
"_Lindsay_?" Jill said loudly, alarmed at the silence.  
Lindsay stepped over the dead body of the man and ran through her friend's home, checking all the bedrooms.  
"_Lindsay_!" Jill shouted. "_What is it_?"  
"She's not here, I can't find her. You might want to get over here. And call Claire. I need to phone Jacobi." Lindsay glanced at the contents of Cindy's handbag that were scattered near the body, including Cindy's cell. '7 missed calls' blinked up at her. Lindsay picked up what looked like a wet flanel. She sniffed, immediately recognising the scent of chloroform.  
"_What the hell happened, Lindsay_?" Jill demanded, worry for her friend putting anger into her words.  
The homicide Inspector stared hard at a mirrow that hung in the hall. ''An eye for an eye' was written messily in red lipstick.  
"I think Cindy's been kidnapped."

Before even looking at the body Claire pulled her best friend into a warm hug. Jill followed right behind the Medical Examiner.  
"It's going to be okay, Sugar. We'll find her." Claire didn't dare add a promise to that sentence. She ducked under the crime scene tape past a swarm of cops, snapping on a pair of latex gloves as she knelt next to the body. The deceased was lying face down in a pool of blood. Jill hung back from the scene, pale from the sight. Lindsay always mareveled at how the ADA could face down theives and murderers in court, yet she couldn't stand looking at the victims lying on Claire's table.  
"Has anyone touched or moved the body?" Claire asked, an air of profession masking her worry.  
"I checked for a pulse but other than that, no." Lindsay answered her, then left the Chief Medical Examiner to do her job as she went to do hers.  
"Tom." Lindsay said as she stood beside him.  
Her ex-husband and Lieutenant looked at her, concern etched onto his features. "I told you to go home, Lindsay. We'll take care of this one. We'll find the reporter. You're too close to be working on this case."  
"You know I can't do that, Tom." Lindsay smiled thinly at her boss, who had come down to the crime scene as it was one of Lindsay's friends involved.  
"Yeah, I know. But it was worth a try."  
Tom laid a reassuring hand on her arm before getting back to business.

An hour and a half later, while they waited for Claire to perform the autopsy on the guy who they found to be Charles Ray, Cindy's guy from the cafe', Lindsay, Jill and a few other cops stood around Lindsay's desk. They sorted through various crime scene pictures, trying to decipher the meaning of the ominous words.  
"So we've established that it is someone after revenge. On Cindy? Maybe she wrote an article about him that he didn't like." Jill said. A few of Lindsay's co-workers had started to question Jill being there, but had backed down when the ADA gave them an icy glare. There was no way Jill was being left out of this one.  
"No, that doesn't fit." Lindsay's partner, Inspector Warren Jacobi, countered. "The perp stole the photo from Bernhardt's house and left it at Boxer's. I think it was a message directed at the two of you."  
"I think you're right, Jacobi." Lindsay said, mulling it over. Warmth flooded through her for her partner. Even though he too had a soft spot for the intrepid reporter, he was serious as all hell, staying professional.  
"So revenge on Linds and I..." Jill started. "Someone we put away?"  
"Which one?" Lindsay asked dryly. Jill's face fell.  
"At least we have narrowed it down." Lindsay tried to ressure her. She looked at her watch. Claire should be just about done with the autopsy now.  
"Vera, pull the records for criminals that I've arrested, Jill has had convicted, and have been let out on parole recently." Lindsay said to a young officer. Detective Mark Vera nodded and walked quickly away. Lindsay turned to Jill.  
"Let's hope Claire has something more."

"Ugh..." Jill's face went green as they entered Claire's lab at the wrong time, near the end of the autopsy. The body was still splayed out on the table. Claire looked up wearing a white labcoat, gloves and glasses.  
"Just about done. Victim was stabbed once through the chest. Bled to death." Lindsay and Jill could tell the situation was getting to the mother of two, as she used less words than normal to describe everything to them. She gestured to a knife covered in dried blood that was now in a bag, ready to be checked for fingerprints. Jill stepped back, almost out the door.  
"Does that knife look familiar to anyone?" Claire asked. Her assistant came over to take care of the body as Claire pulled off the gloves and the glasses.  
"I think so. Why? What is it?" The only thing that kept Lindsay going at that moment was doing her job and distancing herself from her emotions, so she did just that.  
"I don't know. I just think that I may have seen it somewhere before."  
Lindsay's phone suddenly rang, echoing loudly through the morgue. She answered it on the second ring.  
"Boxer."  
"_Boxer, it's Jacobi. I'm at the San Francisco Hospital morgue. You need to get down here_."  
"What is it?" Lindsay asked. Panic rocked through her body, but she managed to stay calm.  
"_A Jane Doe was admitted to the hospital an hour ago with multiple stab wounds. She was found bleeding to death in a park. She died 20 minutes ago_."  
Lindsay's heart stopped at his next words.  
"_She was a red-head_."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6.

Jill stared down at the still, pale body laid out in front of her. Red hair surrounded the girl's face. She was so young. Too young to die.  
"That could have been Cindy." Jill whispered softly. The enormity of their situation had finally dawned on the ADA. Despite Claire and Lindsay insisting she wait outside while they checked the Jane Doe, she had refused. She had to see for herself. For some reason though, Jill didn't feel sick at the sight of the dead girl. She felt numb.  
"But it's not," Lindsay said as she walked out the room, whipping her cell phone out on the way.  
Claire put her arms around the younger woman's shoulders and Jill leaned against her for support. A young man covered the body back up and they took that as their clue to leave.  
Lindsay hung up the phone and turned to see two of her best friends with looks on their faces noone should ever have to wear.  
"That was Jacobi, basically telling us we have squat. There were no fingerprints at the house that shouldn't be there, no DNA. The neighbours didn't hear or see anything, neither did the fucking doorman. We have nothing!" Lindsay emphasised the last word by hitting her palm against the hospital wall. Her voice lowered to a whisper.  
"We have nothing to go on."  
Jill left Claire's arms as she saw a tear slip down the usually strong woman's cheek.  
"Lindsay, you can't give up now."  
Lindsay wiped the tear away angrily. "Who said anything about giving up? Come on, we'll go back to the precinct. We're missing something. We have to be."  
Claire and Jill shared a look as they followed the Inspector out of the hospital to the car.

"The knife!" Claire cried, sitting up straighter in her chair. Her lab report from the autopsy was in her hand. They had been sitting in Lindsay's office for a little under an hour, sorting through the files Vera had gathered for them. For some reason though, Claire kept going back to the autopsy report. And she had finally figured out why.  
"I can't believe it took me this long." She muttered.  
"What is it?" Jill asked. Hope shone in her tired, red-rimmed eyes. Lindsay abandoned the file she was looking through and looked up at the Cheif Medical Examiner.  
"The knife," Claire repeated as she hauled the file box towards her and began digging through it in excitement. "It's the same knife used in another murder a couple of years ago... here!" She cried triumphantly, pulling out the file she had been searching for.  
"Three years ago a Mr. Matthew Sanchez was tried and convicted for the rape and murder of three girls. He was given the death penalty..."  
"I remember that case," Lindsay interupted, standing up from her chair.  
"We all do, honey," Claire continued. "That was one of the first cases we worked on together. Before Cindy. Mr. Sanchez used the same knife in all three killings, which was taken in for evidence."  
"The knife went missing from evidence about six months ago." Lindsay recalled.  
"So you're thinking it's revenge. Same knife, our friend... but the guy got the death penalty," Jill's brows pulled together in confusion as she tried to figure it out.  
Lindsay looked at Claire for answers. "Any family... friends, maybe."  
Claire shook her head as she quickly read through the file, causing her dark hair to bounce. "Doesn't say..."  
Jill got up and moved to Lindsay's computer. Her hands were a blur on the keyboard.  
"The only family he had at the time was his mother and a younger brother. Ms. Sanchez hung herself in her basement a couple of months after her son was given the needle."  
"That leaves the brother..." Lindsay started. Jill nodded.  
"Robert Sanchez, 23 years old... mmm."  
"What does 'mmm' mean?" Lindsay asked.  
"It means he has quite the rap sheet. Arrested for underage drinking, drugs... armed robbery of a conveniance store. He spent some time for that one. He worked as a builder for a construction company for a while, but was fired six months ago..." Jill didn't even get a chance to finish.  
"We'll check it out. Jill, get me his address. I'll talk to Tom."

Cindy stared at her kidnapper through tired eyes. He had been huddled in the corner of the room holding a picture frame since she had woken up a couple of minutes ago. He hadn't said a word, and Cindy thought maybe he hadn't noticed she was awake. She had already looked at her surroundings, trying to locate the exits and anything that could be used as a weapon. She was in an old, dark house with moth-eaten curtains and cracked and peeling wallpaper. The room smelt like dust and mildue. This place hadn't been lived in for awhile.  
She tugged at the rope binding her arms behind her back once more, till curiosity finally got the better of her.  
"What's your name?" Her voice sounded raspy and shaky. No doubt because of whatever he had drugged her with.  
He looked towards her, serious brown eyes boring into hers. Dark hair framed his pudgy face and wide jaw.  
"Robert Sanchez." He said gruffly. He stood and walked towards her, setting the frame on a wooden coffee table. Cindy immediately regreted speaking.  
"I see you're awake."  
"Why did you..." Cindy started, but couldn't finish the sentence.  
"Kidnap you? Kill your boyfriend?" He asked with wild eyes. He knelt down next to the reporter, so close Cindy could feel his hot and stale breath against her cheek.  
She turned to face him, determination setting in. She thought about telling him that Charlie wasn't her boyfriend, but held her tongue. Lindsay would be so proud.  
"Yes. Why did you kidnap me and kill Charlie?"  
"Revenge. Nothing to do with you, really." He seemed almost sad about this and he leaned toward her as if to kiss her. Cindy turned away in disgust and his rough lips brushed against her cheek. She swallowed, eyes filling with tears she refused to let spill.  
He pulled away and laughed. "It's a shame. Your such a pretty thing."  
This time his hand reached up to caress her cheek and Cindy had to control the urge not to throw up. His hand pulled back sharply and he hit her hard across the face. Tears slipped out at the sudden pain. She swore she could already feel a bruise forming.  
"Revenge for whom?" She managed to say, wincing as she flexed her jaw.  
Robert turned away and leaned against the wall next to her.  
"For my mother." He paused for a second and Cindy was about to say something else, when he continued.  
"My brother, he wasn't a good man. I know that. But I loved him anyway. My mother loved him. And for the longest time, I wanted to be like him. And then he was arrested for raping and killing three girls."  
Cindy's heart almost stopped at this point. She could feel the fear eating away at her from the inside.  
"And I stopped trying to be like him. I got a job. I got a life. But he was still my brother. She was still my mother." He paused and turned to face her again. He cupped her chin in his hands and forced her to look him in the eyes. He was getting angrier and angrier.  
"When he died, my mother died too. On the inside I mean. She didn't die on the outside until a couple of months later." He stood up, hauling Cindy with him. She stood shakily on her legs, trying to pull out of Robert's tight arms.  
"She hung herself." He was yelling now, spittle flying from his mouth. "Your _friends_ hung her. They killed her!"  
Cindy's heart was thumping hard against her chest. He wasn't making much sense, and he looked wild. The way his hair hung in sharp points in front of his face, his eyes shining with excitement and his hands in a death grip on Cindy's forearms.  
"I found her!" He shouted, shaking her fiercely. "I came home, to this house, and I found her! Hanging from a pipe in the basement. Claire Washburn, Lindsay Boxer, Jill Bernhardt..." Cindy gasped at hearing her friends names. "They murdered her."  
He pushed her roughly to the floor, jarring her elbow against the floorboards. Cindy moaned slightly as she struggled to sit up with her hands tied behind her back.  
Robert suddenly laughed. "For the longest time, I was sad. Then I was angry. She was innocent. She shouldn't have died. But she did. So now, you get to die too."  
Cindy didn't have time to move before his boot swung hard into her stomach. She heard a sharp crack and it took her a moment to realise it was her ribs. She coughed and warm liquid trickled out of her mouth. She wished Lindsay would come in and save her. She wished so hard that she was with the girls right now, telling them all about her hot date or pestering them about the latest case. She wanted Jill to roll her eyes playfully at her dozens of questions. She wanted Claire to give her a warm, motherly hug. She wanted Lindsay telling her fiercely that what she told her was off the record, even though Cindy never wrote about anything they didn't want her to.  
"An eye for an eye." She barely heard him say as his boot came down once more. Nobody heard her scream.


	7. Chapter 7

No one can make me feel worse than I already do for leaving this story for so long, so don't even try. ;-P Maybe one or two more chapters left, then I think I'll move on to finish 'I Spy'. Please R & R, not that I deserve it. And I went back and edited all the other chapters. Some little things have changed, most of the important stuff stayed the same. Mostly I just fixed all the spelling mistakes and grammar stuff.

Chapter Seven.

Jill tapped her foot impatiently, fear shredding her normally calm exterior. Only Claire's comforting presence next to her kept her from totally losing it. They stood in the cordoned off street where Robert Sanchez lived, out the front of a normal looking house that could have belonged to anyone. Lindsay, Jacobi and a swarm of police officers had swarmed the house armed to the teeth. Jill looked at her watch. That was five minutes ago.  
"She's dead, isn't she?" Jill crumbled, tears filling her eyes.  
Claire turned to face the blonde. Shock and concern filled her features. She wrapped her arms around the taller woman.  
"Sweetie, we don't know that." Claire whispered. She was trying to be reassuring, but all her motherly instincts were on overload right now. She didn't know who she should be worrying about most. Seeing as how she had Jill here in her arms now, Claire focused on her. It wasn't like Jill to give up.  
"Yes, we do. Why else would it take them so long?" Jill cried softly, holding her face in her hands.  
Claire opened her mouth to answer her, but instead shook her head. She was afraid the answer to that would upset the blonde even more.  
"Cindy's tough, Jill. We have to believe she'll make it out of this okay."  
They both turned to look at the house as the front door flew open and Lindsay came storming out, eyes wild with fury. They were all suprised when Claire rushed forward, though no one more than Claire herself, taking the brunette by the shoulders.  
"What happened? Was she in there?" Claire rushed. Lindsay gave her a look and she caught herself, taking a deep breath. She was the reasonable one, she reminded herself. She needed to be the strong.  
"No." Lindsay shook her head. Suddenly the anger drained from her eyes and hope replaced it.  
"I know where he took her."

Robert smiled down at the still, limp form of the red head. It occured to him that he still didn't know her name. Oh well. It wouldn't matter when she was dead.  
He had almost killed her before, his rage leaking out and causing his arms and legs to kick and punch repeatedly against his will. Thankfully though, he had stopped himself just in time. It wouldn't be justice if she died now. No, the red head was to die the same way his sweet mother had. In the basement, all alone, with no one to help her.  
He bent down and picked her up. Her breathing was shallow and slow. It wouldn't take much for the girl to die. Not much at all.  
He felt a sense of euphoria at finally having acheived vengeance for the untimely demise of his mother. Soon Lindsay, Claire and Jill would know what true loss was. They would know what it was like to lose someone they loved. He remembered going to Papa Joe's for a beer just after his brother was sentenced to death. He had seen them there, toasting the sucess of killing his brother and, in turn, his mother.  
Bitches. The lot of them. They deserved this.  
He took his time tying a rope around the pipes. He savoured the moment because, like all good things, it wouldn't last forever. And he wanted to remember this moment for a long, long time.

Claire gripped the door handle as Lindsay sped crazily around another corner, dangerously close to the fence. Claire, Jill and Detective Vera were sitting in the back of the noisy police sedan. Jacobi sat in the passenger seat and Lindsay was driving, hence the reason Claire's life was flashing before her eyes. Nearly a block away from the late Ms. Sanchez' house, the sirens and lights flicked off, though the dangerously high speed didn't  
A few seconds later the car suddenly stopped, nearly sending everyone inside it through the window. Before the car had even come to a complete standstill Lindsay, Vera and Jacobi were out of the car and runnning towards the house, guns at the ready. Claire and Jill got out of the car, holding hands tightly, as the two other police cars pulled up outside the old, run down house. More police ran out the cars, moving stealthily towards where Lindsay, Jacobi and Vera had gone. An ambulance siren could be heard in the distance.  
Claire felt powerless and useless, two things she hated. But all she could do was hold Jill's hand silently and wait.

Lindsay crept quietly through the house, the pace she was moving seemed impossibly slow compared to the speeds she had been doing on the road five seconds ago. All she could think about was getting Cindy out safely and then never letting her out of her sight again.  
The police officers behind her swarmed in quietly and spread through the rest of the house as Lindsay headed towards the basement. Her gut instinct told her that was where Robert had taken the reporter. When she reached the door she looked back at Jacobi, Vera and another officer and motioned for them to watch her back.  
Then suddenly she was kicking down the door and rushing down the stairs, yelling "SFPD!" and "Freeze!". Her gun found Robert and stared hard at him. Her trigger finger was itchy, but she didn't scratch.  
That is, until she noticed Robert give a tug on a piece of rope. A piece of rope connected to a pipe, which in turn was wrapped around Cindy's delicate neck.  
That's when she pulled the trigger. That's when the bullet left her gun and buried itself deep into Robert's chest.  
That's when it was all over.  
The world seemed to catch up with her, brilliant lights and flashing sounds and colours. It was like being submerged underwater, and then suddenly rising up into fresh air. She could breathe again.  
"Cindy..." Lindsay cried, holstering her weapon and rushing to kneel next to the red head. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed Jacobi moving to Robert.  
The brunette felt for a pulse and found one, albeit a little weak. Having heard the shot and the all clear from Vera, paramedics were there in seconds. One moved to Cindy and the other moved to Robert. Lindsay wanted to scream at him to leave the bastard alone, but she didn't. She kept her cool. Cindy would have been so proud.

"Oh god, babygirl..." Claire cried. She surged forward to the unconscious red head lying on the gurney that Lindsay and a paramedic were wheeling out. Tears of relief poured from her eyes as she briefly clutched Cindy's cold hand. She felt Jill running alongside the gurney next to her.  
"She's alive..." Jill sobbed in relief.  
It was decided Claire would ride in the ambulance with Cindy, and she left no room for arguments. The mother of two said she didn't want to see Lindsay at the hospital until she had showered and changed out of her bloody clothes. She had left it to Jill to make sure that happened.

When Jill and Lindsay arrived at the hospital waiting room not more than 30 minutes later, they found Claire sitting in a hard plastic chair. She was stubbornly holding a cup of lukewarm coffee as if that alone was enough to keep sleep at bay. They played the 'you should go home and rest, I'll call you if I hear anything' game. Everyone got a turn before they all resigned to the fact that none of them were going anywhere. Jacobi played Santa Claus and arrived not long after with a tray of Starbuck's coffees and a bag of donuts. They settled in for the long haul, satisfied that they had all done all they could do.  
Now it was up to Cindy.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight,

Cindy walked quickly along the dark city street. Leaves littered the ground and bare trees hung over her. Aside from the moon, one lone streetlamp was the only source of light and it shone eerily on the cracked footpath. Her footsteps echoed off the dull brick walls, crawling with graffiti and grime. There was oddly no one around and Cindy shivered, pulling her coat tight around her body as she all but sprinted to her well loved car. She didn't seem to be getting any closer to reaching Maggie however. Everytime she looked up she could see the outline of her car in the distance, but it didn't seem to be getting any bigger.  
"Cindy..."  
The reporter stopped and spun around as she heard her name whispered. She couldn't tell where it was coming from. When she turned back, Maggie was gone. She stood puzzled for a second until she spotted a light shining across the street.  
She walked steadily closer, crossing the road slowly. As she got closer the light grew brighter and brighter. Suddenly she realised.  
She was supposed to meet the girl's at Papa Joe's tonight. They were going to have drinks and celebrate... what? She couldn't remember.  
Her hand found the doorknob as her other arm shielded her eyes from the blinding light. She turned the handle, the door swung inwards and sound exploded around her.  
She took a hesitant step inside and shrugged of her coat. She looked down.  
Why was she wearing her formal dress?  
Cindy's head snapped up as the door closed with a bang. The music was loud, the patrons were rambuscious and the wait staff were harried. She sidestepped one of the waitresses to avoid wearing beer and glanced towards the not-a-club's favourite booth. She relaxed as she saw Lindsay, Jill and Claire sitting around the table. Margaritas sat in front of them as they chatted softly. Cindy made her way over to her friends.  
"Hey, guys!" She chirped happily, sliding in next to Jill. No one looked up.  
"I don't know if I can do this." Jill said softly. Claire placed a comforting hand on the ADA's arm.  
"What's wrong?" Cindy asked.  
"You can, we can." Claire whispered.  
"What happened?" Cindy cried. When neither Claire nor Jill answered, the red head looked at Lindsay.  
"Linds... what are they talking about?" Cindy was starting to panic. Her whole body started to ache and she tried to move her arms to hold her stomache, but they felt too heavy.  
Lindsay growled and Cindy followed her gaze. She saw a man sitting at the bar facing the girls, a smug look on his face. He looked so familiar, but Cindy couldn't quite place him.  
"I'm going to arrest you!" Lindsay said forceably, standing up and moving to the man. "You killed a member of our club!"  
Cindy suddenly realised who the man was. She recognised the cold, hard eyes and the dark hair. Flashes of memory suddenly flew back into her head, making her dizzy. She remembered everything.  
Was she dead?  
Was this what it was like to die?  
Papa Joe's started fading around her. The roof cleared up and became sky. The tables, chairs and people disapeared and she suddenly felt sand beneath her feet. She looked down, wriggling her toes. When did she take off her shoes?  
When she looked back up again she saw the ocean. The sun was bright and she wished she had her sunglasses. She felt silly when she discovered they were already on. Something seemed odd about the ocean, but she couldn't quite place it.  
It came to her suddenly. The ocean was frozen, standing still. There were no waves lapping and rolling on the beach. No seagulls chirping in the sky. It was like she was in a painting.  
"Cindy, sweetie..."  
The reporter looked around wildly. She couldn't figure out where the voice was coming from. She suddenly heard a steady beeping sound, getting louder and louder. She felt a ghost of a touch on her hand. Her eyelids felt heavy and she closed them.  
Something pressed against her back, something soft and slightly bumpy.  
"...wake up.." She heard the voice again. She almost recognised it. The voice sounded so comforting. She loved this person, she knew that much.  
The steady beeping grew louder and louder. Her body started hurting, lots of pain. It was so hard to move.  
"Come back to me, Cindy." The vioce was crystal clear this time. Cindy turned her head to the sky, eyes still closed.  
She knew that if she went to the voice, pain would follow. She could just stay here forever in this beach, frozen in time.  
"Don't leave me..."  
Cindy's heart warmed. Her mind was made up. She needed to find the voice, she needed to go back. She needed to tell the voice that she would never leave them.  
She felt herself be thrown back hard into her body and her eyes fluttered open. She looked around wearily. She was in a hospital room. She felt a comforting squeeze on her hand. She looked up into the smiling face.  
"Hey, you. Welcome back."

~WMC~

Small survey / vote for those who review. Who is the voice? Thanks for reading.


	9. Chapter 9

So this is the last chapter, hope you all like it. :)

Chapter Nine.

"Cindy! What the hell are you doing here?" Jill cried angrily, slightly tipsy from the couple of margaritas she had drunk. Lindsay and Claire swiveled in the booth to glare at the reporter. Cindy had been let out of the hospital a week ago and had been orderd to strict bed rest. Cindy's idea of bed rest, however, involved chasing leads and interviewing witnesses in the girl's latest case, the murder of a socialite.  
"My job." Cindy answered Jill as she slid into the booth next to her, across from a furious Homicide Inspector and a frowning Medical Examiner.  
"Cynthia Rose Thomas," Claire muttered in exasperation. Cindy poked her tongue out at the use of her full name. "You aren't going to heal properly if you don't listen to the doctors and _rest_!"  
"You got the time off work. Use it!" Jill added, cupping Cindy's face with her hands.  
"Are you drunk?" Cindy giggled, crinkling her nose. Jill thought to herself how cute the red head looked when she did that and said so.  
"You're so cute..." Jill slumped onto the red head's shoulder, who looked at Claire for an explanation.  
"It's been a long day." Claire offered, still angry at the reporter though softening a bit. May as well let bygones be bygones. It would be a cold day in hell when Cindy decided to follow the rules.  
"Yeah, Denise is a bitch!" Jill nodded, squeezing Cindy's thigh. Cindy rubbed the blonde's arm in sympathy.  
Claire laughed, sliding out of the booth. "Come on, sweetie. Let's go home. Let Lindsay and Cindy talk."  
As Claire said this, Cindy looked to the suspiciously quiet Lindsay, realising she hadn't said a word since she had come in. This wouldn't be good. Maybe she should go with Claire... Cindy looked up. Too late. Claire had already left, taking a tipsy Jill with her.  
Cindy turned to Lindsay, a sheepish smile on her face. "So, I have a few questions about..."  
"You just don't get it, do you?" Lindsay interupted her in a 'calm before the storm' kind of way.  
"Get what?" Cindy asked quietly, busying herself with her notepad as she chewed on her pen. Lindsay reached across the table and snatched the book off her, slamming it down on the table between them. Severall patrons looked up, whispering to each other as they stared at the two women. Cindy glanced around nervously.  
"Geez, Linds, calm down. You're making a scene."  
"Are you _trying_ to get yourself killed?"  
Cindy started, eyebrows drawn in confusion. "What...? Lindsay, what are you talking about?"  
Lindsay continued as if Cindy hadn't said a word. "Because it sure seems like it. Where were you today?"  
Cindy fidgeted nervously as she realised what this was about. "I was just going to ask some questions for an article."  
Lindsay leant back against the booth, arms crossed in front of her as she stared hard at the red-head. "Mr. Gregorio is a suspect in an ongoing murder investigation. What part of that do you not understand?" Cindy opened her mouth to speak but Lindsay continued on. "You nearly _died_, Cindy. Some guy kidnapped you and tried to kill you. Do you understand that?"  
Cindy lowered her head as the horrible memories resurfaced. "You don't need to tell me that, Lindsay."  
"Don't I?" Lindsay sat forward again, her voice angry. "Because it sure as hell seems like I do. I nearly lost you, Cindy, and you act like that doesn't matter. You act like you don't care!"  
A tear slipped down the red head's cheek and she hurriedly wiped it away.  
"You brought me back."  
That brought Lindsay to a stop as confusion flashed across her face at the abrupt change of subject. "What are you talking about?" The Inspector's eyes narrowed.  
Cindy looked up, determination in her eyes. "When I was in a coma, you brought me back. I heard you talking to me, and I didn't want to leave you. I came back for _you_, Linds."  
Lindsay sat there in shock, not sure what to say. She ran a hand through her dark hair as she exhaled, cheeks puffed.  
"What does that have to do with..."  
"It doesn't." Cindy said quickly. "I just thought you should know. Lindsay, I'm not going to change who I am, or what I do. And you shouldn't expect me to. I came back because you asked me to, Linds. Isn't that enough?"  
Lindsay sat there quietly for a few minutes, turning everything around in her head.  
"No, Cindy. It's not."  
Cindy watched in dismay as Lindsay stood up and stalked out, throwing some money down on the table before she left. The reporter flopped back against the booth as she picked up the remainder of Jill's drink, drinking the lot in one go.  
What the hell had just happened?

~WMC~

What the hell did just happen? I have no freaking clue. This is not where I thought it would be going at all. Looks like I'm going to have to do a sequel. And there seems to be romantic tension between Cindy and Lindsay. Did anyone else notice that? When did that happen? Sooo did not expect that. This is by far the most unexpected story I have ever written, though I hoped you liked it.


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